


they'll tell the story of tonight

by CPTAlpha_17



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha deserves more love, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, and I'm here to deliver it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 14,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CPTAlpha_17/pseuds/CPTAlpha_17
Summary: A series of one-shots revolving around Alpha-17's various adventures during the Clone Wars and beyond, featuring appearances from both chaotic Jedi and hyperactive cadets.Each chapter is an individual story. Originally posted on tumblr.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	1. See How They Run (Watch How They Fall)

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: Alpha-17 back on Kamino, taking Anakins suggestion and helping the clones come up with names and describing what working with jedi will be like. Also i like the idea of the clones asking why he SO scarred and hes like now thats a good story and watch out for general kenobi he gets into stuff and only after they meet him and anakin are they like "Oh now i get it."

Kamino is… even worse than he remembers, quite honestly. If not for the  _ verd’ike _ , Alpha would be more than tempted to burn the place to the ground and be done with it. 

(It’s not the first time the thought has ever crossed his mind, and it’s certainly not the last.)

But at least he doesn’t have to deal with Kenobi or Skywalker anymore. 

Which is a plus, all things considered. Rattatak had been rough, to put it lightly - much more so than he’d let on, partly to ward off potential concern from Kenobi and partly because he refuses to admit it to himself. 

Of course, he’s traded the Jedi for a batch of cadets who are entirely too boisterous for their own good. Kenobi is still stuck with Skywalker as far as he knows, and sometimes he can’t help wondering who got the better deal.

(Then again, knowing Kenobi, he’d be all too happy to spread some  _ osik  _ about serenity and inner balance or something equally revolting.)

Alpha suspects it’s a product of Jango’s teaching that he’d initially headed into this assignment with high expectations for the command batch. In retrospect, he can’t for the life of him fathom where he’d acquired  _ that  _ notion - every single cadet under his command is the embodiment of chaos with a healthy disrespect for authority. 

He’s not one to talk, but as an officer - and a recently promoted officer at that - he feels that it’s his duty to try to uphold the command structure of the GAR. 

Still, he can’t help feeling a sense of grim satisfaction whenever one of the  _ di’kute  _ fires back a retort at the  _ Kaminiise  _ or one of the nat-born instructors. Normally any deviant behavior would be smothered for fear of reconditioning, but the  _ Kaminiise  _ know better than to cross him. He’s one of Jango’s, after all. 

Fett may have been a rotten father, but Alpha has a grudging respect for the man’s ability to keep them all in line for twelve years. Wrangling these cadets is exhausting; he can only be grateful that they’ll be rotated out in a few months. 

(Truthfully, he hasn’t been able to shake a sense of bone-deep fatigue since Rattatak, but that’s no one’s business but his own.) 

No one could ever accuse him of going easy on his cadets, but even he knows that every soldier needs a break sometimes. Taking a second to breathe does wonders for morale. 

Unfortunately, it also invites the possibility of conversation with the  _ verd’ike.  _ He’s never been as inclined to idle conversation like many of his brothers, but he’s pleasantly surprised when the rambunctious boys he’s slowly becoming accustomed to prove to be much more insightful than he’d previously imagined.

He indulges their curiosity some days. More often than not their interest lies with the Jedi they’ll be serving with soon enough, so he does his best to share an adequate depiction. They’re not omnipotent tactical masterminds like the clones had been raised to believe, Alpha warns, but they’re decent officers for the most part. 

“You served with General Kenobi, didn’t you, sir?” one of the cadets asks. 

Alpha barely suppresses the first sarcastic remark that comes to mind and instead settles for a nod and a noncommittal shrug. 

“And?” one of the other boys pipes up. 

“And what?” 

“What did you think of him?”

_ Well, for one thing, he’s a kriffing Jedi playing at being a politician while having at least one affair that’s strictly forbidden by his creed…  _

“He’s a good officer,” Alpha says at last. “Gets a bit high-minded, and we rarely ever saw eye to eye, but he listens to his men.”

He’s been sure to drill that into them over and over, because if there’s one thing he wants them to retain it’s that soldiers will follow a commander into hell if he makes an effort to connect with them. 

“What really happened on Rattatak?” 

The question catches him off guard. For a second he has half a mind to deflect it - it’s a long story, for one thing, and an unpleasant one at that - but these cadets will be shipping out soon. He’ll have little say in things once they deploy, but he can certainly do his best to prepare them now. 

Besides, Alpha can’t fault them for wanting to explore the galaxy beyond Kamino through any outlet available. Being slated for a command slot can be isolating, and they’ve heard enough about the galaxy from older troopers to be ravingly curious about what awaits them once they step foot outside Tipoca. 

“It’s really not that interesting,” he sighs in a last-ditch effort to deter them. 

Sadly, they seem content to wait him out. 

Shabla  _ cadets and their  _ shabla  _ games.  _

Grumbling - they look far too smug for having secured such a minor victory - Alpha opts to give them a vague overview rather than a meticulous account of everything that had taken place after Ventress had seen fit to interfere on Jabiim. 

“The campaign on Jabiim was tipping in Separatist favor…” 

***

Skywalker may be a pain in the  _ shebs _ , but Alpha is coming to realize that the kid had a point about naming the cadets. It hadn’t been much of a priority among the Alpha batch, but it seems to be something extraordinary for the later generations. 

Most times, the kids don’t tell Alpha directly that they’ve chosen a name for themselves; rather, he learns to listen to the quiet discussions between squad mates, and makes a point of using those names rather than the designations they’d been assigned at birth.

Sometimes a cadet’s delight gets the better of him and he blurts it out during an exercise. Alpha rarely reacts in the moment, but he makes sure to give an acknowledgement when they’re off-duty. 

After a while, their names spring to mind before their numbers.  _ Cody, Bacara, Gree…  _ he still can’t determine what exactly the change signals, but he can see it in their eyes. It’s a source of pride, and who is he to deny them? 

Besides, he thinks wryly, it’s better than an unruly Padawan deciding to bestow a nickname upon them in the middle of a war zone. 

***

The cadets seem to be under the impression that stories from the battlefield will become a regular fixture in their routine. Alpha doesn’t let that notion stand very long, but he occasionally allows their questions after a successful exercise or a particularly impressive sparring match. 

They’ve gotten even bolder since he first took command; apparently, no question is off limits. 

“You’ve got an awful lot of scars, sir,” one of the boys observes. From the tone, Alpha guesses it’s Bly. 

“Very astute, cadet,” Alpha huffs. “I’m glad my training isn’t wasted on you.” 

“Are they all from Rattatak?” 

“For one thing, I honestly don’t remember how I got every single scar, and for another, I’m not here to tell you stories,” Alpha says firmly like he hasn’t spent the past twenty minutes addressing their various questions about his experience with Jedi command. 

“It’s General Kenobi, isn’t it,” Cody pipes up sagely, and in that moment Alpha realizes he’s taught them a little too well. 

“He had something to do with most of them, yes,” Alpha admits. 

“Some officer,” Neyo mutters with his usual cynicism. 

Alpha cuffs him. “Put a lid on it, cadet. I didn’t say they were his  _ fault  _ \- it’s just that he was usually involved in one way or another. Kenobi likes to poke his nose in where it isn’t necessarily wanted.”

Most of them look disbelieving. Alpha shrugs. They’ll figure it out one way or another.

***

Alpha jerks awake sometime around 0300 to the incessant beeping of his comlink. Grumbling to himself, he activates it and rumbles a greeting.

“Hope I didn’t wake you up, sir.” 

“You’re lucky I’m not in theater, or I would smoke your  _ shebs  _ for this one, Cody,” Alpha growls, because even though it’s been a while since the first batch rotated out he vividly remembers every cadet’s distinct inflection and tone. 

“We’ve heard that one before,” Cody says teasingly.

Alpha ignores the jibe. “Spit it out,  _ di’kut _ .”

Cody hesitates, then bursts out, “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” Alpha asks, awake enough to be puzzled.

“Deal with Kenobi,” Cody whispers. Alpha can’t help being amused by the desperation in his voice. “He’s a disaster on legs, sir.”

“That’s nothing I didn’t know already,  _ al’verde _ ,” Alpha informs him.

“But sir…” 

“You’re the commander. He’s your problem now,” Alpha adds, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Alpha…”

“Give the general my regards, Commander.” 

“Wait - ”

“Sorry,  _ al’verde _ . Duty calls.”

If Alpha is smirking when he sets aside his comlink and shuts his eyes in the hopes of getting a few more hours of sleep, no one is the wiser.


	2. A Little Camaraderie Helps the Night Go By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: For the Alpha prompts - Alpha and Vortex hanging out in a jungle, maybe having to deal with hungry wild critters?
> 
> (Vortex is an OC - Lieutenant Alpha-71.)

“Remind me why I let you drag me into this.” 

“Because you’re such a loyal  _ vod _ , of course.”

“ _ Osik _ ,” Vortex grumbles. “I call abuse of power.”

“Maybe, but I outrank you, so there’s nothing you can do about it,” Alpha reminds him, affecting a haughty air that he only gets away with because Vortex is one of the few people who would shamelessly smack him one should he ever develop a heightened sense of self-importance.

Vortex, never one to willingly admit defeat, mutters mutinously under his breath. 

Alpha lets it slide. When it comes down to it, there’s no one else he would rather have by his side behind enemy lines - and disputing the point would bring on a losing battle he simply doesn’t have the energy for. If Alpha is frustratingly persistent - as certain Jedi officers are wont to claim - then Vortex’s unyielding nature is downright alarming. 

“‘m surprised you didn’t pass this one off,” Vortex says with a distinct air of distaste as he takes in their surroundings. “Bit of a comedown from Coruscant, isn’t it?”

Even though Alpha could spew some  _ osik  _ about dedication to the greater mission of the GAR, he opts to keep his mouth shut rather than prattle on about a cause he’s long since lost faith in. 

“Everyone needs a change of pace sometimes,” he finally answers without conviction. 

“You might as well admit Maze forced this one on you and be done with it,  _ ner vod _ .”

Alpha doesn’t deign to respond to that one. He’ll get his vengeance one day; in the meantime, he’s far more interested in ensuring he and his brother make it out of this swamp alive.

Which isn’t shaping up to be an easy task thus far. Droids may not be built to navigate such boggy terrain, but lately he and Vortex have had to contend with the local fauna as well. Intel is adamant that most of the wildlife is relatively harmless, but after a number of up close and personal encounters with some of the planet’s more welcoming species, Alpha is inclined to disagree. 

After the last misadventure - a night ambush by several absurdly large, likely venomous reptiles that had ultimately required some skilled knife work from Vortex and more explosives than they could afford to waste - Alpha knows better than to assume they’ll make it through the night without incident. 

He rifles through his pack in search of low-grade ordnance to place around the perimeter of their makeshift camp. They’re already running low on supplies, but he’s willing to make some sacrifices if it means avoiding an unpleasant death by a vengeful lizard. 

“If one of those lizards decides to make you its lunch, I’ll never let you live it down,” Vortex comments.

No longer surprised by Vortex’s uncanny knack for knowing precisely what is running through his mind at any given time, Alpha huffs in reply, “Go for it. I’d be dead anyways.”

“ _ Mir’sheb _ .” 

“Are you going to help me or not?” 

Vortex slides down from his vantage point and slings his sniper rifle over his shoulder. He holds out his hand for a detonator, then tenses. 

“Heads up - ”

All in all, Alpha thinks as the first telltale glint of scales flashes from the shadows, they’re certainly getting well acquainted with the wildlife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in submitting a prompt, my url is @cptalpha-17. :D


	3. Sins of the Father

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Alpha post order 66 (legends or canon). Like does he believe the Jedi really turned on the republic? Is he proud of his men for following high command orders immediately and without question? If its canon, how does he feel about having his personality overridden? Does he live long enough to see the empire and if he did would he care that it was no longer the republic he was trained to serve? Pleaseeee I need the feels
> 
> There was a second ask to go along with this same scenario, so this will be split into two chapters. I went with a fairly canon-compliant interpretation of Order 66.

Part I

It’s fascinating, Alpha thinks, albeit perversely, how quickly things can turn upside down with little warning.

The end of the war has always been a hazy  _ someday;  _ he’s never factored in the possibility that he might be alive to see it come about. 

(Their legacy, of sorts: laying the foundation for a city they would never see flourish in their lifetime.) 

He’s never been one to cling to hopelessly idealized visions of the future; Jango’s pragmatic outlook surfaces too often to allow for something so trivial. 

(For all that Alpha has done his best to dispel Jango’s influence, he can’t help wondering what Fett would make of the Order’s demise. Would that insatiable desire for vengeance finally be satisfied?)

(He imagines his father looking on with approval as the Jedi received their retribution for their crimes against Mandalore - justice wrought by unwilling hands, vengeance exacted by men who had only known the unwavering loyalty between unwilling factions pushed to war.) 

The moment itself is frighteningly vague. He remembers shaking hands - his targets’ or his own? - the unbearable sensation of being unable to breathe, nauseating horror and regret for actions that were not his own. 

And then came the  _ after.  _

The jarring return to himself. The bewilderment. His own deep-seated shock reflected in the faces of men who had once been his brothers. The paralyzing regret when he saw the aftermath - Jango’s final act of vengeance. 

And maybe, he thinks, that’s why Fett was adamant that their service be given to the Republic rather than the Jedi. Because the Jedi weren’t invulnerable. Because the Jedi were fated to fall, and Fett was going to see to it that the disavowed sons of Mandalore would fulfill that destiny in his stead.

And this is what follows a thousand years of restoring peace to the galaxy. 

An emperor rises to power, aided by his ruthless apprentice. 

A galaxy is gripped by fear. 

Deceit and treachery run rampant. 

An army, shaken to its roots by their forefathers’ undying thirst for vengeance that manifested itself in a betrayal wrenched from resistant hands, carries out the Emperor’s whims. 

Alpha-17 watches it all. 

Sometimes he thinks not much has changed. The Jedi and the Republic are gone, but he is still trapped in a system that would just as soon slit his throat if it served their purposes. 

(Sometimes he wonders what his father had intended for them, once their purpose was attained. They are, inescapably, the blood of Mandalore. What did the great Jango Fett mean to happen to them after they proved irreparably that his legacy lived on?) 

Alpha loathes the Empire. He despised the Republic, a few years and a lifetime ago, but under the Republic at least he could conceivably see a future after the war. Now - as always, in the boots of a soldier whose only choice is to obey - he knows with devastating certainty that this cycle of bloodshed will not end in his lifetime.

Alpha-17 still doesn’t know what to make of it.

He remembers Kamino, vivacious cadets eager to rise to the challenges he set for them. The bittersweet pride he kept hidden when they succeeded; something approaching regret, knowing the burden they would carry as the Grand Army’s commanders. 

He remembers each and every one of them pulling the trigger without hesitation, loyal to their orders to the last.

He refuses to get caught up in the  _ what-ifs _ , the pointless fantasies of a life none of them would ever see. Ever his father’s son, Alpha resolves to make something of the cards he’s been dealt.

_ You made it this far, soldier. _

_ What comes next?  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in submitting a prompt, my url is @cptalpha-17. :D


	4. The Puppet-Master and His Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: this goes with my other thing cause i just cant stop thinking about it. Like how does alpha feel knowing that everything, everything he and his brothers suffered, from training to war, was all for nothing and just a plot? Like he was ordered by the head of the separatists! Hes so loyal to the republic like that knowledge has to hit him. So i guess how would he react to finding this out?
> 
> This chapter is the second and final part of the Order 66 prompt.

Part II 

What comes next is a fragmented series of revelations that don’t appall him so much as affirm the unremitting doubt that has been eating away at him ever since the order first went down. 

The first develops out of an assortment of sources, accumulated intel never meant for his eyes. It’s not enough on its own, so Alpha pieces it together as he goes. It’s one unpleasant jolt after another as he unearths obscure scraps of intel that gradually come together to form a plot so elaborate it takes him days to make sense of it. 

(Although he considers Jango a father in the loosest of terms, it’s nonetheless jarring when he finally begins to comprehend the significance of Fett’s role in the undoing of the Jedi - and, by extension, the galaxy itself.) 

( _ We were never meant to have this power _ .) 

It doesn’t take him long to discover that Palpatine’s deception runs deep. Near as Alpha can tell, the  _ hut’uun  _ orchestrated the war from the very beginning, starting with the creation of the Grand Army.  _ No wonder he recruited Jango; he must’ve known no one else would stand a chance against the Jedi.  _

_ So he’s a traitor,  _ Alpha dismisses in an attempt to ward off the uncomfortable feeling that leaves his chest tight and his stomach twisted. Aruetyc hut’uun.  _ There’s nothing you can do about it now. _

(But if they were capable of killing Jedi, he finds himself thinking on more than one occasion, why not the Force-user who declared himself emperor?) 

He’s hardly one to reflect on everything he has experienced, but more and more he finds himself looking back, all the doubts and questions of  _ why  _ he’d spent so long suppressing threatening to surface. Jango had instilled a sense of purpose in each of his trainees, but even Fett couldn’t stop them from asking  _ why.  _

(What did it cost?)

( _ Everything _ , he wants to say.) 

Because no matter how he frames it, there is no denying that everything he and his brothers endured was meaningless. They’d walked through hell for… _ what _ , exactly? 

He remembers the cadets on Kamino, untouched by the war, their faith in the righteous ideals ingrained in them since birth unshaken by death or despair. They were just kids, weren’t they?

_ We were never just kids.  _

Since Alpha had never bothered placing his trust in the Jedi - he never could escape his father’s legacy - he resorted to the Republic instead. It was corrupt from the start, but he felt that maybe that would carry him through the war, once upon a time. Every soldier fought for  _ something.  _

And maybe part of him thought the Republic was something that could be fixed, once the war was won. Something they could heal after those years of carnage. So when he learns that Palpatine also oversaw the Separatist forces, the irony isn’t lost on him. 

_ Taking out Grievous and Dooku wouldn’t have ended the war.  _

_ Palpatine had a contingency for that, I’m sure, _ he thinks bitterly. 

He likes to think he isn’t shaken. 

Truthfully, he experiences a sense of disorientation unlike anything he has ever known. He’d clung resolutely to his loyalty to the Republic because it had been the one constant throughout his life. The idea that Palpatine manipulated both sides - demanded they lay down their lives without reward or acknowledgement of their sacrifice - and pitted them against each other for his own twisted ends cuts deep. 

Alpha finds himself desperate to recover that sense of purpose. He can’t sit idle, content with whatever hand the galaxy deals him. And if he can’t find a way, he’ll make one. 

It’s early days still, but he knows instinctively that history will repeat itself one day. The Empire will crumble - destroyed by its own monstrous ambition or by a galaxy that will finally stand against its tyranny. 

Although Alpha isn’t entirely sure how he fits into this, he has a feeling that if he and his brothers changed the course of the galaxy once, they could very well do it again. 

And even though finding something to stand for means they could just as easily fall for it, he thinks it might be worth it. They’d fought and bled and died for something before, even if it had proved to be nothing more than a senseless plot in the end.

Alpha-17 bides his time, watching tensions grow as the Empire struggles to establish itself in the wake of the Republic and the Jedi Order. He’s made it this far; he intends to keep going, salvage the situation however he can.

_ Wait for it. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in submitting a prompt, my url is @cptalpha-17.


	5. You're Madder Than a Hat Full of Caf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Alpha deciding that the disaster man that is Obi-wan is vod and he needs to watch out for him, cause clearly he cant take care of himself

“Honestly, who in their right mind promoted you?” Alpha asks, torn between exasperation and genuine curiosity. 

“Oh, you know me,” Kenobi says airily as he arranges his robes in an almost dainty manner. “I must have won over my promotion board. I’ve been told I’m rather charismatic.” 

“And here I thought we were just desperate for officers…”

Kenobi wrinkles his nose. “Thank you for your vote of confidence, Lieutenant. I’ll be sure to come to you if I ever need encouragement.”

“Always happy to help.”

“Your Force signature suggests otherwise.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” Alpha mutters under his breath. 

Predictably, Kenobi just smiles in his enigmatic way, conveniently blind to the corpses, dismantled droids, and rubble strewn around them. 

(Alpha is utterly convinced that when he dies, the catastrophe on legs that is his commanding officer will no doubt be involved somehow.) 

“How do you expect to take care of your men if you can’t even take care of yourself?” Alpha grumbles. 

Before Kenobi can respond, General Skywalker bursts into the room in his usual harried manner. Alpha quickly steps aside to avoid being flattened by the Knight and his wave of sentimental concern. As irritating as Skywalker can be, Alpha has to hide a grin at the weary look on Kenobi’s face as he endures the usual rapid-fire questions about their latest misadventure. 

“So what happened, exactly?” Skywalker asks when he’s done interrogating his Master. 

Alpha jumps in before Kenobi can even open his mouth to respond. “Are you talking about the explosions, the assassins, or the bodies?” 

“Uh… none of the above.” 

Unfortunately, Kenobi is wise to Alpha now, and chides him with a weary, “Alpha.”

“It’s a shame you missed it,” Alpha continues, because it’s Skywalker’s fault he got himself thrown off a building within two hours of their arrival, and Alpha fully intends to rib him for it. 

“Alpha…”

“Ugh, fine.” Alpha rolls his eyes. “I’m so very sorry someone threw you - ”

“ _ Lieutenant _ .”

Alpha smirks at his victory, then switches to being the responsible officer. “We should head out before we attract any more trouble.” 

“At this point, nothing would surprise me,” Skywalker mutters.

______________

“Look alive, sir,” Alpha says, glancing sidelong at Kenobi. “We should reach the Core in an hour or so - provided your loyal Padawan doesn’t decide to play hero for some hapless civilians along the way.”

Kenobi offers a tired smile, and while Alpha much prefers to keep his thoughts to himself, he feels a faint twinge of concern for the general. Their last mission wasn’t the hardest - not by a long shot - but constant redeployments with little respite in between wears on anyone over time. 

And despite Kenobi’s tendency to revert to the high-minded teachings of the Jedi Order, Alpha likes the man. He listens to his troops and goes out of his way to see if he can’t make their lives a little easier. 

(Of course, this often means that he inadvertently makes Alpha’s life harder, but it’s a sacrifice Alpha is willing to make for his brothers. Most of the time.) 

Alpha has a feeling Jango Fett would be inclined to disagree, but he decides part of his duty as General Kenobi’s second is to keep an eye on his commanding officer.  _ Not to mention Fordo and Maze would never let me hear the end of it if he gets himself killed,  _ Alpha thinks wryly, and wonders absently if he and his brothers will be in the same system any time soon. 

In the meantime, he has a general to look out for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to submit a prompt, my url is @cptalpha-17.


	6. The Blood Is Running Down My Chin (Is as Yours as It Is Mine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: Prompt: A-17 training with Jango. Does it get violent? Probably.

Alpha-17 knows better than to run his mouth, and he certainly knows better than to cross Jango Fett, but several days of intense combat simulations means short tempers and a loosened hold on his usual restraint. So when Fett decides to test their resolve with the usual mind games, 17 finds himself rapidly running out of patience. 

Unfortunately, what could pass as a blank expression in any other situation is incriminating when faced with a man who has overseen their training for the past nine years.

“Something to add, Seventeen?” Fett asks, voice dangerously soft.

17 bites back the first retort that springs to mind and instead answers sardonically, “No, sir.” 

Fett lowers his chin. “If you have something to say, spit it out.” 

“Sev, don’t,” one of the others - 26, maybe - says under his breath. 

Instead of dissuading him, the warning only serves to embolden him. 17 exhales slowly and lifts his chin to show he’s game.

The only indication of Fett’s disapproval is the barely perceptible twitch of muscle in the man’s jaw. It’ll probably come back to bite him later, but 17 can’t suppress a sense of grim satisfaction for having provoked a reaction. 

Fett’s first strike comes without warning. 

17 catches Fett’s arm on his own and forces it aside, then swings his own body around to retaliate with a punch aimed at the vulnerable gap in Fett’s armor just under the ribcage. Fett absorbs the blow without flinching, and 17 realizes too late that the man is waiting for him. Cursing, 17 pivots on one foot to avoid getting caught in body-to-body contact. He doesn’t yet have the advantage of size; if he gets in too close, it won’t take much for Fett to use his momentum against him. 

Fett doesn’t press forward like 17 expects. He seems content to wait him out, let him wear himself down. It’s too easy to fall into the opening, but 17 knows Fett won’t pass up a mistake like that. So he mirrors Fett’s deliberate motions, searching for a shift in weight or stance that could tip off where his next strike will land. 

Fett seems to be looking for a similar opportunity. 17 focuses on avoiding any missteps that could disrupt his balance; the slightest indication that he’s not positioned to defend himself, and this will end on Fett’s terms. 

It’s either wait for an attack he may not be able to hold off successfully or take a chance on the offensive. 17 elects the latter. 

He surges forward, aiming low. Instead of trying to brace himself, Fett moves with the impact. 17 rolls when they hit the ground to deny Fett a chance to pin him. Before he can regain his balance, Fett returns the favor and knocks him solidly on his back. 

17 tucks his chin against his chest, using his forearms to ward off any blows to his face. Then he catches Fett in the stomach with his feet and shoves him away. His next roll is messy, but it’s enough to carry him out of range. 

17 has barely recovered his footing when he’s sent sprawling again. He hits the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, and in the split second he instinctively gasps for breath, Fett’s foot connects with his body. 17 is pushed onto his stomach but manages to pull himself forward before the next blow can land. 

This time he’s prepared for Fett to strike before he can get up. The knee planted in his back forces the wind out of him once again, but 17 launches upwards anyways, using his hands for leverage. 

Fett is caught off guard, but it’s not enough for 17 to press his advantage. Instead they resume their earlier circling, analyzing the other’s style, waiting for an opening to reveal itself.

Through the rasp of his own breath and his hammering pulse, 17 catches disquieted mutters from his brothers. They’ve all been in his position before at one time or another; he knows they’re anxious for him to call it now before any real damage is done. 

And maybe he would, if it was anyone other than Fett in front of him. 

17 ignores the exhaustion pulling at his limbs and the dull ache beginning to set in where Fett made contact and takes up a defensive stance once again. 

_ Quit while you’re ahead, Sev.  _

17 draws a deep breath into his burning lungs. 

_ You don’t have to do this.  _

Doesn’t he? 

_ What are you trying to prove? You’re a good soldier, we can all see it.  _

He’s not trying to prove anything to anyone - least of all his father. 

_ Just back off while you have the chance. _

It stems from a place of concern, he knows, but his brothers’ discouragement does little more than spur him on. 

He can’t win if he keeps skipping away every time Fett comes close. It’ll make things that much more difficult, but this time around 17 engages in the body-to-body contact he’s been evading. 

He collides with Fett center mass and resorts to every underhanded trick the man has ever taught him. It doesn’t give him an advantage so much as even out the playing field; Fett hasn’t pulled any punches from the start. 

The onset of fatigue is the only indication of passing time. In some ways, it’s a far more deadly enemy than the man who continues to loom before 17. Common sense persists, warning him that he’ll only make more mistakes the longer this drags on, but 17 doggedly ignores it. Fett won’t give in; neither will he. 

It’s fatigue that finally leads to a fatal misstep, an inconsequential change in balance. 17 corrects it almost immediately, but Fett is already forcing him onto his back foot. He grits his teeth and tries to hold him off, muscles shaking with the effort, but there’s nothing he can do when Fett sweeps his legs out from under him. 

17 falls too easily and knows he’s beaten. No doubt the defeat will sting for days to come, but at this point fighting back would do no good. 

He doesn’t move even when Fett’s foot presses down just below his throat. The man’s face is as impassive as ever; 17 won’t give him the satisfaction of panicking, even though the pressure on his neck isn’t letting up. 

_ If you’re waiting for me to admit I’ve lost, forget it _ . 

17 doesn’t drop his gaze. Fett holds his stare, unmoved by the tense silence that has fallen over the room. 

“You’re never satisfied,” Fett says at last, and steps back. 

_ You’re never satisfied.  _

All in all, it was an odd thing for Fett to say, 17 thinks some hours later.  _ He should know better than anyone that I’ll never be satisfied as far as he’s concerned.  _

But in the end, it doesn’t matter; 17 has a mission to complete, and they have a war to win. And that will be enough. __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send prompts to @cptalpha-17 if you have any ideas you'd like to see written out!


	7. You Bring the Fire; I'll Bring the Bruises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "Can you do one where Alpha is the one who taught Cody all those crazy moves like spin kicking droids and dogpiling general grievous, or better yet, one where he didn't teach him that and its stressing him out how over the top it is. Like hes watching the ARC's practice and is just like "what is he doing???? Who showed him that???"
> 
> I also borrowed Captain Fordo for this one. :D

Alpha is starting to think that assigning 24 to Kenobi was a mistake. 

He’d initially thought Cody would balance out Kenobi’s dramatic flair, but watching some of his former trainees spar for old times’ sake, it’s beginning to dawn on him that Cody did not in any way turn out to be the sensible commander Alpha once hoped for. 

Alpha is pretty sure he never taught Cody to risk shifting his balance to one leg in order to kick an opponent’s face. And he is absolutely certain he never once instructed his recruits to throw themselves bodily at an enemy. 

Unfortunately, Cody doesn’t seem to think this is a problem. If anything, he looks pleased with himself - rather like Kenobi, in fact. It’s almost alarming. 

(Of course, Alpha wouldn’t put it past Skywalker to pull a stunt like that. The kid inherited Kenobi’s theatrics and then some.)

Alpha decides on the spot to put a stop to it while he can - partly to spare Cody getting his head blown off, partly for his own blood pressure because he will probably implode if he sees Cody do that one more time. 

Even though his first batch are off commanding the best the GAR has to offer, Cody promptly obeys himself front and center when beckoned. 

Alpha attacks the issue in his usual direct manner. “Looks like someone’s been taking pointers from General Kenobi.” 

Cody looks baffled. “Sir?” 

Alpha raises an eyebrow. “You’re fighting like a washed out Padawan. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten what I taught you.” 

Cody’s face is a mixture of embarrassment and guilt. “Of course not, sir.”

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind proving that I got  _ something _ through that head of yours,” Alpha says nonchalantly. 

“Oh… well, I’d really - I don’t want to bother you - in fact, I have some mission reports to - ”

“Mission reports can wait,” Alpha interrupts. It takes some effort to keep his amusement from showing on his face. Cody, meanwhile, has a harder time disguising his growing dismay. “Give me five minutes,  _ al’verde _ . Then you can go fill out all the  _ shabla  _ mission reports you want.”

Half an hour later, Commander Cody is considerably worse for the wear. A number of bruises are blossoming on his face and arms, and although he makes a valiant attempt to walk normally, it’s clear his left leg is refusing to support him properly. 

Alpha, on the other hand, leaves the room feeling as though he’d have better luck with one of the other Alpha ARCs. Cody may be a perfectly competent soldier, but even he doesn’t come close to one of Alpha’s brothers. 

“Been busy?” Fordo calls when Alpha pushes his way into their barracks.

Alpha smirks. “Something like that.” 

Fordo responds with a crooked grin of his own. “Want another round?” 

“You know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My url is @cptalpha-17 if you have a prompt you'd like to submit!


	8. Ride Together, Die Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This prompt came from a list of Hamilton quotes)  
> Original prompt: "I know where to find you; piss off, I'm watching the show now."

“Did no one ever bother to teach you about operational security?” Alpha grumbles. 

Mereel just laughs like there’s nothing wrong with showing up in the middle of enemy territory  _ without bothering to tell anyone.  _

“I forgot you haven’t been in the field in a while,” he says, and  _ osik, _ what Alpha wouldn’t give to wipe that smirk off his face. 

Well, he’s assuming that Mereel is smirking, since he can’t actually see the other ARC’s face.

“Protocol’s gone out the window,  _ vod’ika _ ,” the Null continues. “Besides, I haven’t gotten you killed.”

“Yet,” Alpha grumbles, because if he dies here he wants it known that it was not blind trust in an incompetent Null headcase that did him in. 

“Yet,” Mereel concedes amiably. Alpha waits for him to launch into an extravagantly embellished monologue about the events that somehow led here, but Mereel seems content to sit in the mud, humming to himself. 

“ _ Di’kut _ ,” Alpha mutters for good measure. 

“So how long is your sentence?” 

“What?”

“How long are you stuck here for?” Mereel asks. “I’m assuming this is punishment for finally throwing someone in the skylane.”

Alpha squeezes his eyes shut and blows out a long breath. His rifle is resting in the crook of his arm, which means it would be all too easy to - 

“So it wasn’t murder?” Mereel sounds disproportionately disappointed by the notion that Alpha did not, in fact, commit homicide. 

Alpha wonders absently if he should take his chances now, on a planet somewhere between the middle of  _ shabla  _ nowhere and the  _ shebs  _ end of the galaxy; the justice system is practically nonexistent in places like this. (Which is just as well, because arrests make for a lot of paperwork and he isn’t exactly equipped financially to bail himself out.)

“Arson?” Mereel offers hopefully. 

“I -  _ no,  _ you idiot, it wasn’t either of those,” Alpha snaps. 

Mereel pauses in his idle tracings in the mud. His helmet tilts at the horizon like he’s deep in thought. Knowing all too well it won’t last, Alpha takes advantage of the temporary silence to reign in his temper. Mereel’s vaguely stalker-ish tendencies aren’t enough to warrant putting a round through his head, however tempting it might be. 

Which is really too bad, because Alpha suspects it would be highly therapeutic. 

He carefully adjusts his position - he’s hardly getting old, but lying prone for upwards of four hours will make anyone stiff - and scans the area through his scope. Maze had insisted that reducing CIS presence on this planet was critical to maintaining the Republic’s hold on the entire sector. However much Alpha might be inclined to disagree, he’ll do his job, and do it well. 

Suddenly Mereel gasps. Alpha is on his feet in an instant, searching for the threat, but the landscape looks the same as it has for the past two days.

“Do you mind?” he demands crossly when he’s satisfied that he’s not about to get his head blown off. “I’m on a  _ mission,  _ for kriff’s sake!” 

Mereel doesn’t seem to hear. “It was a woman, wasn’t it?” 

The question throws Alpha off his anger long enough for him to growl grudgingly, “What?” 

“You stole Maze’s woman, and now he’s made sure you’re out of the way by giving you this assignment,” Mereel declares confidently.

There’s a beat of utter silence during which Alpha tries to process this. 

“What is  _ wrong  _ with you?” he yells when he can finally form a coherent sentence. 

“I’m just saying, it all makes sense now - ”

“Why are you like this, you useless  _ chakaar _ ?” Alpha fumes. “You’re not even supposed to be here - I don’t want to know  _ why  _ you’re here, and then you pull  _ osik  _ like this - ”

“Oh, wait,” Mereel interrupts. “Wrong one. You’re ace, aren’t you.”

“I’ve only told you about a hundred times,” Alpha snarls.

“Minutaie,  _ vod’ika _ ,” Mereel says airily. “There’s three million of us, you know, I can’t be expected to remember everything.” 

“One would think, the number of times this topic has come up, you  _ might  _ finally get it through your thick skull,” Alpha rants. “But no-o, you can’t remember anything beyond your last hookup.”

“You’re so open-minded about these things,” Mereel comments. 

“What is it going to take to get rid of you?” 

“Suitable entertainment and more credits than you can afford.”

“Gods, you’re annoying.”

“Mm-hm. Mind giving me the scope for a while?”

“Suit yourself,” Alpha snaps, and thrusts the rifle into Mereel’s arms.

Mereel touches two fingers to his helmet in a casual salute. Alpha manages to return the gesture with only one finger.

“Such a well-mannered young man,” Mereel mutters. 

Alpha huffs and folds his arms. Much as he hates to admit it, he’s thankful that someone else has taken up the glorious duty of monitoring the desolate landscape for hostiles that are unlikely to show themselves. 

“If you blow this op, I might just forget we’re on the same side,” he warns. 

“You really need to chill.”

“You really need to find someone else to harass.” 

“But you’re my favorite little brother,” Mereel says, sounding hurt. 

“Shove it up your - ”

“Oh, just go to sleep already,” the Null interrupts. “You wouldn’t be half as grumpy if you’d actually slept for more than an hour or two.”

“‘M not tired,” Alpha grumbles. Too late he realizes his words are evidence to the contrary. 

“Look, if it’s that important to you, I promise not to get trigger-happy and ruin your record. Well. Maybe not  _ promise _ , ‘cos promise is kind of a strong - ”

Alpha cuts him off before he hears exactly how Mereel plans to derail the entire mission. “Fine. Knock yourself out.” He fixes the Null with a stern look. “But at least tell me if I’m about to get my throat slit.” 

“Deal,” Mereel says, still cheerful, still impossibly annoying. 

Alpha hesitates a little longer. He knows from experience that leaving a Null ARC to his own devices can have unfortunate consequences.

Mereel lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Look, if we’re about to die an unpleasant death, I know where to find you. So piss off, I’m watching the show now.”   
  
“Not much of a show,” Alpha mutters, but he backs off for the time being and shuts his eyes. If they’re going to be ambushed, the last thing he wants to see is Mereel making a fool of himself. 

He thinks he hears a quiet “ _ You’re not half bad,  _ vod’ika” but ultimately puts it down to sleep deprivation. He and Mereel have reached an agreement: taunting is allowed, physical harm is generally acceptable, and murder will be judged appropriately should the occasion arise. 

As he falls asleep with only a Null for company, Alpha wonders if that agreement will change by morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send any prompts on over to @cptalpha-17. :D


	9. It's Quiet Uptown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "Perhaps some fluff for Alpha-17? Just him hanging out being happy, doing whatever. Need more happy alpha stuff in the universe"
> 
> I'll admit, when I saw Alpha and fluff together I went "uhhh" but I had fun with this!

_Downtime_ doesn’t come easily to Alpha-17. General Kenobi’s stand-easy order had been intended more for the infantry squads than his second - whom he delicately termed _volatile_ at best \- but the general insisted Alpha take some time to unwind after their latest narrowly secured victory.

It wouldn’t be Alpha’s first choice on any given day, but he’s starting to think it isn’t the worst thing he could be doing. In fact, he finds he doesn’t much mind it. He might even grow used to it, given time. 

“You feel… calm,” Kenobi notes from beside him. “Not your usual fire and death.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Kenobi smiles. “I’ll leave you to it.” 

Alpha relents with a small smile of his own. He doesn’t pretend to understand half of what goes on with Kenobi and the Force, but he wonders if the general isn’t on to something after all. He ponders it for a time, then dismisses the thought. It doesn’t do to get lost in such things - and he doesn’t care for it anyways. 

Still, he has to admit that it’s not all that bad, this quiet. Even though he doesn’t really know what to do with himself, he can breathe for once. Alpha takes advantage where he can; it’ll be over all too soon. 

( _ What will the galaxy be like, in peace?  _ he remembers one of his cadets asking, wide-eyed and eager.)

( _ A fantasy,  _ Alpha replied flatly, and turned away before he could see the kid’s face fall. The bloodshed can’t go on forever, but they’ll be long dead before it ends. Planting visions of an impossible future isn’t fair to them.) 

But it’s beginning to dawn on him that he might have been wrong. He can’t really make sense of it, but the quiet unfolding before him isn’t a fantasy at all. 

There’s no mission objective, no enemies, no plans to scrape together in a futile attempt to spare an overworked battalion the brunt of a devastating attack. For the first time in his life, he isn’t a soldier; he can just  _ be.  _

( _ You’re never satisfied, _ Jango Fett once said, but Alpha thinks he might be.) 

He’ll be shipped to the front lines soon enough. He much prefers the solo missions he’s been running lately, but the GAR needs more officers in the field. With the Special Operations Brigade stretched thin, it’s only a matter of time before he assumes a more forward role. Infantry commander isn’t quite his style - he tends to favor Jango’s own solitary nature more often than not - but he’ll perform well regardless. 

Alpha isn’t one for contemplating the future, but he feels something like peace when he considers what’s likely coming next. The increasingly dire odds of a war that has just dragged itself over the second-year mark don’t frighten him. Through it all, he knows who he is; he’s discovered that the innate sense of identity he and his brothers share is more than most folks can hope for in a lifetime. 

_ Kenobi must be rubbing off on me,  _ he thinks wryly. 

(Let the Jedi get wrapped up in ideology and speculation; Alpha goes where sent and willingly chooses to avoid wondering why.)

It could be worse, he decides, amused. He’s suffered through more than his fair share of Skywalker’s never-ending cycle of  _ why  _ and  _ what if.  _ Having such thinking dispelled early on thanks to Fett and the  _ Kaminiise  _ spares Alpha a good deal of disquiet; living by the  _ Resol’nare  _ provides the purpose so few in the galaxy seem to have. 

(He may not be free in the galaxy’s eyes, but Alpha knows in some ways he is far freer than anyone. Whatever else the galaxy sees fit to take, it can never deprive them of that.) 

With any luck, he’ll catch enough of a break to return to the Core. Although the widely varied lifestyles on Coruscant don’t appeal to him in the slightest, he hasn’t had the chance to speak with Maze face-to-face for months now. Whatever Kenobi might think, Alpha doesn’t hold the rest of the army in disdain, and he genuinely enjoys Maze’s company. His brother isn’t half as stuffy as Alpha makes him out to be; Maze simply displays the diplomacy Alpha so often lacks.

Strictly speaking, Alpha’s duties as executive officer should mean most of his time is spent on Coruscant overseeing the Spec Ops brigade. But no plan ever survived contact with the enemy, and he prefers the field. Maze is far better equipped to handle strained Jedi and overburdened troops anyways.

“Not _ getting caught up in philosophy, _ are you, Captain?” 

Alpha has to raise an eyebrow at Kenobi’s return. “Have I ever?”

“No.” Kenobi smiles ruefully. “You’ve never been particularly inclined to overthink things, I’ll admit.”

“Not insulting your subordinates, are you, General?”

Kenobi feigns offense. “Have I ever?” 

This draws a short laugh from his second-in-command. “I only know what I’ve seen.” 

“Subjective,” Kenobi remarks. 

“If you’re trying to make yourself feel better, sir, I don’t think it’s going to work,” Alpha informs him bluntly.

“You never did master tact like Captain Maze.”

“And I’m glad for it,” Alpha retorts. “Look where that’s gotten him.”

“You'll have to pick a new tune soon enough. Any Force-user can tell the two of you have a strong connection.” 

Alpha opts to ignore this. “I would’ve thought you’d be planning our next move.”

“All in good time, Captain.” Kenobi’s face softens. “Your brothers won’t mind if you join them, you know.”

“You’re about to lecture me about camaraderie, aren’t you,” Alpha accuses.

“They’re waiting for you.”

“They shouldn’t be.”

Kenobi isn’t fooled. “Is that such a bad thing?” 

All in all, Alpha thinks as he listens to his brothers trade stories and engage in lively discussion, things could be worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a prompt in mind, feel free to send it over to @cptalpha-17. :D


	10. Keep On Fighting in the Meantime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "its just not Alpha's day. Caf's cold, intel was bad, generals hurt, wind knocked down the mess tent, seems like hes the only competent person on the planet, someone took his helmet, and to top it all off its raining. And then an even bigger annoyance shows up... (absolutely up to you for who or what the annoyance is. BTW, thanks for writing these, I love your stuff!)"
> 
> (Title borrowed from Hamilton)

Jabiim is an absolute mess, to put it lightly. 

Alpha-17 picks his way through the mud, noting sourly that the rain seems to be picking up again. A few more hours and he might mistake it for Kamino. 

He shakes his head to clear his vision. The one good thing to be said for the relentless rain is that the enemy’s vehicles aren’t impervious to it, either. The mud will be an ongoing issue - if the rain ever slows - but Alpha decides that’s a problem for another time. 

Not that there’s much to do in the meantime. Kenobi had called a halt two days prior, against Alpha’s advice, so they’d set up camp outside the mountain range they were supposed to be taking for the Republic. The area was of no strategic value whatsoever, and Alpha was happy to tell command where to shove their intel, but Kenobi had merely sighed and muttered something about following orders. 

_ Load of good that did,  _ Alpha thinks. A gust of wind sends rain lashing across his face and threatens to overturn another tent.  _ We’re stuck here until the general recovers.  _

It isn’t fair to blame Kenobi. It isn’t really his fault, either - he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. A stray blaster bolt is hardly anything to worry about, but Skywalker is adamant that his Master needs to make a full recovery.  _ For the good of the Republic, of course. _

Alpha ducks into a tent that’s functioning as their forward operating base. It’s almost dry inside, and his only company is a shiny who offers a salute, then promptly makes himself scarce. Alpha can’t help feeling a twinge of pity that the kid’s first look at the galaxy is turning into such a fiasco. Then again, anywhere is better than Kamino, so maybe it isn’t a disappointment after all. 

His knee complains when he leans over the holomap of the area. He has a vague memory of wrenching it when his foot slipped in the mud during a brief skirmish with an enemy patrol, but he’s nearly forgotten on top of everything else. Alpha files the information away for another time - he’ll check in with the medics after the more serious injuries are seen to. 

He’s reviewed their intel half a dozen times, and each reveals another glaring error in the information. He has a healthy distrust for Republic Intel by now, but Jedi command doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment. 

Alpha sighs and deactivates the holo. Staring at it won’t do much good.

He might glance in the med tent if he didn’t run the risk of encountering Skywalker. He’s trying to be a good officer, Alpha can tell, but he’s too young to understand that the mission comes first. 

Still, checking in on his commanding officer would be the decent thing to do. And with any luck Kenobi will have thought of new ways to combat the Jabiimi forces. Alpha hovers, torn between the desire to avoid Skywalker and his lectures about compassion and his grudging concern for Kenobi. Another smattering of rain makes up his mind, and he pushes his way into the tent. 

The first thing he notices is Skywalker’s absence. That’s unusual these days - he prefers to monitor his Master’s recovery himself. The next is that Kenobi seems to be waiting for him. The general catches his eye and waves him over with a faint smile. 

“I told your Padawan this wouldn’t be enough to kill you, but he didn’t seem to believe me,” Alpha greets him. 

“Hello to you too, Lieutenant.” Kenobi peers at him. “Not taking this time to relax?”

“We’re in enemy territory,” Alpha informs him as if this is a new development. “What kind of second would I be if the camp got invaded on my watch?” 

Kenobi shrugs. “I trust your judgement.”

“Then you’ll give us the go-ahead to push the enemy back across the river?” 

The general frowns. “It seems unnecessary.”

“We’ll have control of the valley,” Alpha points out. “And they won’t be able to get behind us.”

“I’ll consider it.” Kenobi’s voice takes on a mischievous tone. “But I’m afraid that’ll have to wait until our reinforcements are settled in.”

“Reinforcements?” Alpha echoes sharply. “You didn’t tell me command authorized reinforcements.”

“It’s not another battalion,” Kenobi warns. “I’d imagine you’ll need a great deal of patience.”

“What are you not telling me, sir?” 

“There’s a group of Padawans who have recently lost their Masters. They were passing through this system, and we need all the help we can get…”

Alpha pinches the bridge of his nose. “The last thing we need right now is a bunch of untrained kids getting underfoot.”

“They have training,” Kenobi answers, sharper now. “And they’re willing to help. I expect you to treat them with the same courtesy you would any Jedi.” His voice softens. “Anakin’s gone to meet them.”

There’s no point arguing. Alpha pushes himself to his feet with a sigh. “And you’re going to tell me I should do the same.”

“You  _ are  _ my second. It’s only fitting - ”

“I get it,” Alpha interrupts. “I’ll send them your best and all that.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Kenobi is grinning now. 

Alpha, on the other hand, is decidedly  _ not  _ grinning when he sets eyes on the gaggle of Padawans huddled in a tent. They look impossibly small, clumped together and soaked to the bone. As badly as they need reinforcements, Alpha can already tell that they’re going to be just as much of a hindrance.

“It figures,” he grumbles to himself. 

Just as he’s reconsidering his decision to be part of the welcoming party, Skywalker grabs his arm and hauls him over. “My Master’s second-in-command,” the kid announces, cutting through the buzz of conversation. “Alpha Seventeen.” 

Alpha’s salute is more a jerk of his arm, but he doubts the  _ Jetiise _ notice or care. “Just who we needed to ride to the rescue.” 

Skywalker frowns at his tone, but as it’s just shy of an insult, he keeps his mouth shut. 

The kids crowd around, telling him how eager they are to help, what an honor it is to serve with General Kenobi,  _ he’s on the Council, can you believe it, and he asked for us specifically -  _

Alpha can already feel a headache coming on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My askbox is open over at @cptalpha-17! :D


	11. I'll Keep All My Plans Close to My Chest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "How about some protective big brother/dad Alpha with his cadets?"
> 
> (Title borrowed from Hamilton. Again.)

Alpha has no recollection of signing up to be  _ ori’vod  _ to the Grand Army’s latest batch of officers, but he figures it was bound to happen anyway, what with the Alphas being the first successful batch and all. 

He’s done his best to keep the cadets at a distance thus far. Their success - and survival - rests on his shoulders; better for them all, to stay at arm’s length. 

(If he realizes history is repeating itself, he chooses to ignore it.) 

But he’s not a father; he’s their  _ brother.  _ Alpha is beginning to wonder if there isn’t some fundamental difference there. He can’t quite piece it together, but he’s certainly conscious of it - to the point that it stings when he finds himself echoing Jango’s words far more often than he would like.

(Ten years of training and two since his death, and Alpha still doesn’t know where he stands with his father. He can’t bring himself to hate him - however much he might have, not so long ago - but he can’t exactly call himself  _ grateful,  _ either. It’s all too messy for him, and much easier to avoid altogether.) 

One thing leads to another, despite his best efforts, and soon Alpha isn’t just an officer anymore. It’s entirely the cadets’ fault, he insists to a skeptical Fordo, glossing over the fact that he isn’t exactly putting his all into resisting. 

“I gotta admit,” Fordo says one day, grinning wickedly, “I never thought you were cut out to be a  _ buir _ .”

Alpha takes him to task for that one, and can’t help but smirk when he catches Fordo wincing for days after. 

He doesn’t consider himself the cadets’ father by any means, but after a while he’s forced to admit that he might just be their brother. It’s the  _ Kaminiise  _ that bring about the realization in the first place.

They leave him to his devices for the most part; they know perfectly well from years of observation he won’t hesitate to push back if necessary. They know he is Jango’s in ways beyond even their understanding, and so they treat him warily. They don’t cross him, and he doesn’t give them reason to suspect his brand of training officers might not line up with their meticulously regimented courses.

But they make it known that he’s being watched. It’s the little things, at first - an offhand comment from a scientist, deliberately placed medical personnel in his training sites. That he can aside; being subject to their relentless scrutiny growing up means he hardly bats an eye at the near-constant presence of the  _ Kaminiise. _

He thinks it might be his disregard that rubs them the wrong way. The Kaminoans have never taken kindly to the realization that their creations aren’t the two-dimensional wet droids they were intended to be. Whatever it is, one of the higher-ups deems it necessary to have greater influence over his training program. 

Fordo tips him off. It’s not just a courtesy from one brother to another; it’s a warning. If Alpha pushes too hard, he’ll disappear in the night like so many others and leave his cadets defenseless. Fordo admonishes him -  _ it isn’t fair to them, Sev  _ \- but there’s a hundred other things just beneath the surface that Fordo can never speak for fear of being the one who disappears. 

So Alpha watches his step, and makes sure his cadets do the same. Presenting a bland face grates on him, but it’s for the best. 

Fortunately, his cadets are a perceptive lot; it doesn’t take them long to pick up on the subtle shifts in his expression and posture when the  _ Kaminiise  _ are around. Like all clones, they learned early on to only show the Kaminoans exactly what they want to see. 

When they’re free from supervision, Alpha is treated to flashes of personality from each cadet. 24 displays a knack for tactics; 52 often picks up on minute details his brothers overlook. 04 is quieter than the others, but observation proves that his silence masks an analytical mind.

(Sometimes Alpha can’t help but see himself and his brothers in the cadets. They never had the nerve of the newer batches - not openly, anyway - but the similarities are there. Alpha isn’t sure if it’s painful or oddly reassuring in a way he can’t quite piece together.) 

The cadets are a handful and then some; Alpha doesn’t remember his brothers causing nearly as much trouble as these  _ di’kute.  _ Still, he can’t deny that he’s grown fond of them. He doesn’t know whether to be alarmed or amused, but that doesn’t stop him from smacking Fordo upside the head when his brother pokes fun at his newfound tolerance for his recruits. 

Fordo keeps at it. “Going soft, Sev?” 

“Want to come over here and say that again?”

“I’ll pass, thanks - I’ve got all the evidence I need.”

There’s going soft, and then there’s looking out for his subordinates, Alpha decides, the latter of which is expected from any decent officer. 

(It’s such a feeble argument, he carefully avoids the subject when Fordo is in earshot.) 

Every cadet in this batch is set to graduate within a few months. They’ll be scattered across the galaxy then, deployed to the hardest-hit sectors in the hopes of salvaging the Republic’s foothold on planets that weren’t worth the cost. On the off-chance Alpha encounters them outside of Kamino, their sole focus will be the welfare of their troops. It’s all too likely that they won’t come back; he tries to remain mindful of that even though it hurts on some level. 

(And that’s the one critical piece the Kaminoans somehow overlooked: the more they see of the galaxy, the more they come to realize that it’s not much of a life, this unending violence and bloodshed. Alpha does his best to tune out such thoughts - he’s not sure he’s ready for the doubt to slip through the cracks - but he’s seen enough beyond Kamino to know that this isn’t a life at all.) 

So he does what he can to prepare them for a galaxy that will always turn its back on them. It’s just as well that they don’t question him - he doubts he’s capable of explaining that it isn’t that he doesn’t care; he wouldn’t be doing it at all if he didn’t care.

But such things stray too close to Kenobi’s Jedi prattle for Alpha’s liking, so he sticks to what he knows. The cadets seem to understand, and that’s all the reassurance he needs. He still hasn’t fully accepted the notion that he might need them just as much as they need him, but he’s learning, in his own way. 

And there  _ is _ something gratifying about watching the cadets hone their raw skills into combat proficiency any  _ Mando’ad _ would be proud of. Alpha down plays his role in it, insisting he’s more of a guide than anything, but there’s still a sense of pride knowing it was his training that brought the cadets to this point. 

They’re not  _ his _ \- not really, not for long - but he won’t let the war claim them, either. It isn’t what Fett would want, but Alpha resolves to hold fast to a little bit of whatever is taking shape here in the endless white hallways of Tipoca City. 

In spite of his father. In spite of the war. In spite of everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send prompts over to @cptalpha-17!


	12. If We're Gonna Go We Gotta Go Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "17 and his batch mates on a mission. They are just stoked to be working together. Just some brotherly interactions. (real or OC, i love them all)"
> 
> Why are there four ARCs on a mission? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Was this fun to write? ABSOLUTELY.

“Figures that we get sent to this sort of  _ osik’la _ planet,” Vortex grumbles, shaking mud from his boots with a look of disgust.

Fordo, for his part, doesn’t seem bothered. “What exactly were you expecting when you heard  _ jungle _ ,  _ ner vod _ ?”

Alpha keeps a determinedly straight face when Vortex rounds on Fordo.  _ Some things never change,  _ he thinks, both exasperated and amused. Vortex could only be described as  _ volatile  _ even on the best of days.

“In his defense, this place isn’t all that great,” Maze remarks, ever the voice of reason.

“Ah, don’t mind him,” Alpha chips in when Fordo looks disbelieving. “He’s been cooped up at HQ for too long. Worried he’ll ruin his hairstyle or some  _ osik _ .”

He dodges the incoming clod of mud with ease. Maze can play at being the level-headed one, but old habits die hard and Alpha distinctly remembers ducking a good number of makeshift projectiles that only seemed to appear when Jango’s back was turned. 

“We’ll make it up to you,” Vortex adds. “Do you prefer your nails match your armor?” His head tilts as he considers Maze, his customary brooding expression replaced with a smirk. “Then again, I’m not sure blue’s your color.” 

It’s such a departure from his usual grave intensity that the conversation stumbles to a halt. Fordo is the first to laugh; Maze levels him with a disapproving, thin-lipped stare. Vortex, entirely unrepentant, favors Alpha with a covert smile that’s gone as soon as Maze starts to turn his head.

Maze looks ready to return fire, and while it would doubtlessly be entertaining, they still have an objective to complete. Alpha resigns himself to the good-natured grumbling that’s sure to follow and interrupts with, “Are you  _ di’kute  _ going to spend the whole day bickering?”

He’s not surprised to see the other three are too busy sizing each other up to bother responding. Eventually, however, Fordo backs off, declaring, “You can’t argue with Vortex.” 

Vortex’s face creases in a frown as though he’s gauging whether it’s an insult or not. Maze beats him to it, muttering, “That’s what you get for being all offense,  _ ner vod _ .”

There’s too much truth in it to be an insult. Predictably, Vortex nonetheless seems prepared to take it as one. Alpha once again struggles to maintain a neutral expression - he’s confident Maze has never been on the receiving end of the full force of Vortex’s temper.  _ One of the lucky few _ , he thinks, too amused to be irked by their antics.

But someone has to keep them on track, so Alpha says, “Give it a rest, you lot. If we get ambushed because you’re trying to one-up each other, I’m blaming you.”

“You would,” Fordo confirms cheerfully. “Shamelessly.” 

Alpha has no choice but to reach over and cuff him roughly for that. Vortex’s nearly imperceptible shift suggests he’s more than eager to come to his aid, but Maze chooses to step in before things can escalate. 

“He’s got a point. Let’s get moving.”

__________________________

“Y’know,” Vortex says thoughtfully with a sidelong look at Maze, “you made it sound like this place was crawling with Seps,  _ ner vod _ .”

“Guilty as charged,” Fordo says through a mouthful of ration bar. He gives Maze a playful nudge that nearly sends him into the mud. It’s the best they can do, Alpha reflects ruefully. It’s deal with swamp water constantly seeping in or risk exposing themselves in a less protected area; they’d opted unanimously for the former. 

Maze sighs. “Intel - ”

“There you go, then,” Alpha says, using a stick to poke half-heartedly at the fire they haven’t managed to light in the past hour. “You rely on intel too much, Maze.” 

“It wouldn’t hurt you to try it sometime,” his brother retorts. 

“Yeah, I’ll do that when I want to get my  _ shebs  _ handed to me by a battalion of droids…”

“Might as well turn a blind eye,” Vortex agrees. “Don’t have much to lose.”

Fordo opens his mouth to contribute, then pauses, frowning at Vortex. “Was that a joke?”

“Everyone knows intel’s a joke.”

“Not that,” Fordo says impatiently. “The blind part - was that a joke?” 

Vortex stares at him. The look on his face is almost blank, but Alpha knows better and so has to hide a smirk. Fordo, it seems, hasn’t quite caught on yet. 

“It had to be a joke,” he insists. 

Vortex merely shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That was deliberate,” Fordo appeals to Maze.

Maze raises an eyebrow. “Whatever you say,  _ ner vod. _ ”

“He  _ was _ joking,” Fordo is still muttering several hours later. “There’s no way - ”

“Oh, lay off already,” Alpha says through a yawn. Vortex is already asleep; Alpha can’t help feeling envious, if only because it spares him Fordo’s relentless muttering. “Besides, you know no one will believe you, right?

He’s finally almost asleep when Fordo announces to everyone within earshot, “Vortex made a  _ joke! _ ”

“ _G_ _ o to sleep!” _

______________________________

“ - all I’m saying is, it wouldn’t kill you to take them head on sometimes.”

“It just might kill me in the literal sense is all. But I shouldn’t worry, because it would be a quick death.”

“Now you’re getting it. Chin up,  _ vod _ \- it beats death by paperwork.”

“If you ask me, that qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment.”

“There’s a reason no one asked you.”

“What is  _ wrong  _ with the lot of you?” Alpha demands when he finally reaches the perimeter of their camp. “I can hear you from halfway across the galaxy.”

Fordo brightens. “Oh, good, you’re back.” He reaches over and hauls Alpha closer by the arm. “Settle something for us, would you?”

“I’m not agreeing to anything until I know exactly what’s going on,” Alpha says firmly. “And I hope you know how to reset a dislocated shoulder,  _ ner vod _ , what with you dragging me all over.” 

“Good morning to you, too.” Fordo indicates an outline of the enemy forces sketched roughly in the dirt. “Vortex says we ought to take our chances and strike first.”

“Beats waiting for them,” Vortex opines. “They’ll get the drop on us if we hang around too long.”

“And Maze thinks we should gather more intel before we make a move,” Fordo continues, speaking over Vortex to stave off any retaliation from Maze. “Personally, I think they both have a point.”

“Well  _ shab,  _ good thing you aren’t indecisive,” Vortex mutters under his breath.

Fordo lifts his hands in a submissive gesture. “Someone has to be reasonable here.”

Alpha decides to observe rather than spoil the moment by relaying his findings from his latest scouting mission. He’s sure they can stand to learn a thing or two. 

Eventually, however, Maze turns to him. “What are you thinking, then?”

Alpha glances at his chrono. “Took you long enough. Fifteen minutes, to be exact.” He fixes them with the best hard stare he can muster in the circumstances. “I’ve been doing recon since oh-four-thirty - you’re welcome, by the way. So I reckon I can make your decision easier.”

“Someone inherited Kenobi’s flair for drama,” Fordo mumbles.

Alpha, utterly dumbfounded, can only glare. “I - what?” 

“Leave it to you to give us a monologue first. Makes sense, seeing as you were assigned to him for a while - ”

“You know what? Forget it,” Alpha huffs. “If you’re going to be difficult, I just won’t tell you anything. No skin off my back.”

Fordo grins. “You won’t.”

Maze sighs. “He will.”

“You know I will.”

“You’re all fair  _ dini’la _ ,” Vortex declares. “I’m off.”

“Where are you going?” Maze demands.

“To kill some Seps.” Vortex pushes himself to his feet, sniper rifle in hand. “You’re welcome to join me.”

Fordo stares after him. “He isn’t serious.”

It’s Alpha’s turn to sigh. “He is.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always my askbox is open over at @cptalpha-17!


	13. And They Fall So Slowly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "Alpha finds Rex after the shit show on umbara, when it hits him he nearly lost his brother/son which he practically raised . Just tons of brotherly love and hurt please"
> 
> So it turns out in several years of writing TCW fics I have never written anything with Rex. Whaaat?

The 501st’s arrival on Coruscant is a somber affair - nothing like the triumphant return they’d no doubt envisioned. Alpha may not know each man by name, but he’s heard more than enough about Torrent’s flair for the  _ unconventional  _ to be concerned by the air of defeat that permeates the hangar. 

They’re grim-faced to the last man, and Alpha suspects this is where he stops playing at being an officer. Easy enough to pull out the captain’s tab when necessary; picking up the pieces of a battalion that’s been through hell is far more of a challenge, and one that he isn’t entirely sure how to address. 

He waits until the hangar has cleared out to approach Torrent’s commanding officer. The campaign on Umbara hardly lasted a month, but Rex looks like he’s aged years. 

There’s no flicker of surprise through the dull, haunted look on the captain’s face, but his voice suggests some confusion when he says, “I figured you’d be chasing Seps around the Outer Rim, sir.” 

It’s clear he doesn’t really care one way or another, but Alpha decides to follow his lead. “‘Fraid not. There aren’t enough to go around these days.”

He isn’t confident Rex hears him, or if he processes any of it if he does. It’s such a far cry from the headstrong cadet Alpha remembers that it’s almost painful. Alpha had done his best to distance himself from his recruits - for their sake more than his own - but he’d found some sort of connection with them nonetheless. 

“I have some things to take care of,” Rex says absently. “If you don’t mind…”

Alpha steps back. “Go ahead.” 

Rex will get around to telling him what went down on Umbara in his own time. Alpha’s already seen the reports, let himself be disgusted and irate by what he found, but he prefers to hear it from the man whose boots were on the ground through it all. 

It takes several hours before Rex seeks him out. Alpha, who wouldn’t be entirely truthful if he claimed he wasn’t waiting for the man, lets him make the first move.

Rex’s hands are knotted in his lap. He looks everywhere but Alpha, clearly struggling to broach the subject. This hesitance is unfamiliar to Alpha, and tells him more than anything that the only way to comprehend the extent of the horrors brought by the Umbara campaign would be to experience it firsthand. 

Finally Rex says, “I don’t know what you’ve heard - ”

“Heard enough,” Alpha assures him grimly. 

Rex’s gaze finally settles on him. “I should’ve done more.”

“Maybe you should have, and maybe you shouldn’t, but what good will that do now?” Alpha wants to know. “I know it’ll always be that  _ what if  _ that keeps you up at night, but telling yourself what you should have done differently will only make it worse.”

“What do you suggest, then?” As twisted as it is, the edge to Rex’s voice is reassuring, if only to indicate that he’s losing the numbness that took Alpha aback when Torrent first arrived. “Close my eyes and act like it didn’t happen?”

Alpha is walking a knife edge now. He remembers a similar conversation on Kamino years ago, Jango warning them that one day they’d find themselves being torn apart by what might have been and the most they could do was put one foot in front of the other and learn something from their failure. 

“And what would you gain from that?” Alpha returns. “Your men wouldn’t trust you.”

“As if they will now?” 

That’s it, Alpha thinks - the thought of losing his brothers’ trust for good is more than Rex can bear. There’s worse things, Alpha knows, but this is Rex’s worst; his job now is to navigate and guide as best he can. 

“You thought you were doing the right thing. They can’t fault you for that.”

“And look where that got us,” Rex says bitterly. 

_ Osik,  _ Alpha doesn’t know how to respond. He lets his brother’s anger hang in the room, then says quietly, “If you want to feel betrayed, fine. You’re more than entitled to that. But you can’t let yourself get caught up in things you can’t change. You’ll lose sight of what’s happening now, and if that happens, you’ll keep making the same mistakes.”

“So you’re saying I should just forget about it.” There’s an awful cynicism in Rex’s voice that Alpha can’t reconcile with the valiant cadet he once knew. 

“No, I’m saying you should use it. Use the anger, use the grief. Make it something you can control rather than the other way around.” 

“ _ How? _ ” The cynicism is gone, overtaken by raw desperation. “Tell me how.”

Alpha shakes his head. “There’s no one way to go about it. It’ll come over time.” Rex looks ready to object, so he continues, “Think of it this way. When you’re on your next mission and things have gone to  _ haran,  _ remember the grief you’re feeling now, and you’ll do everything you can to bring your men back. You don’t want anyone to use you or your brothers like that ever again? Take your anger and let it make you an officer whose first priority is his men, not his orders.”

“Sounds difficult,” Rex says at last. 

“Never said it would be easy."

“And if I manage all that? What then?” 

“I don’t know,” Alpha admits. “It’s worth finding out, if you ask me.” 

Rex lets out a long breath. “I’ll try.” 

“That’s all anyone can do.”  _ I wish I could do more. I wish I had been there. I could’ve stopped that  _ hut’uun  _ before any of this happened, and then we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I never thought I would be having this conversation with you.  _ “Rex?”

The man pauses beside the door. “Sir?” 

“Take care of yourself, too.”

“I’ll try,” Rex repeats, and offers a faint smile. 

“They’re proud of you, you know. Your brothers. You did everything you could to bring them home.”

“I’d like to think so,” Rex says softly. “I just wish - ”

“They are,” Alpha promises.  _ Maybe you’ll see that someday.  _

“Thank you, sir.”

“ _ K’oyacyi, ner vod. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Send any prompts on over to @cptalpha-17! :D


	14. And Time Expands, the Beat Goes On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "Fordo being protective of his batchmates, that’s it that’s the ask please"
> 
> Three snapshots of Fordo being a good brother, ft. Alpha, Vortex, and Maze. Title borrowed from The Mad Ones.

17’s distracted frown has become a common sight lately. Fordo can only guess its cause this time around - it could be anything from cadets not performing to standard to another report of high casualties from another pointless assault ordered by a nat-born officer. 

Whatever the reason, it doesn’t take him long to decide that someone ought to broach the subject. It’s hardly likely that 17 will decide to do it himself, so Fordo takes the initiative.

“ _ Me’vaar ti gar? _ ” he asks, keeping his tone casual.

“The usual.” 17 looks tired. He’ll never admit it, of course, but it just so happens that Fordo knows him better than most.  _ You weren’t always like this. _

_ The usual  _ could mean any number of things. 17 isn’t keeping him in the dark deliberately, but Fordo never liked having to guess and prod for details.

“Performance scores,” his brother clarifies as if he sensed the incoming question. “They’re lower than they should be, and I’d be lying if I said I knew why.”

“New batch?” Fordo guesses.

17 shakes his head. “That’s the problem. They’re halfway through the course.”

“Have you changed anything lately?”

“Nothing that wasn’t planned for.”

“Give them some time,” Fordo advises. It’ll likely do little to placate his brother, but on the whole 17 tends to take such things better when it comes from Fordo. A nat-born or a shiny wouldn’t stand a chance.

“We haven’t  _ got  _ time,” 17 mutters, more to himself than Fordo. 

“If you’ve done your job, you’ve done everything you can,” Fordo says bracingly, hoping a more direct approach will resonate with 17. “The rest is up to them.”

“If they’re not up to standard, then that’s on  _ me _ ,” 17 says flatly. 

It’s not a matter of their lackluster performance reflecting poorly on 17, Fordo knows; it’s the difference between life and death. For all that 17 insists on separating himself from his cadets, he wouldn’t have bothered taking training detail if he didn’t care. 

“You’ll figure it out,” Fordo assures. “Or it’ll work itself out. There’s bound to be some trial and error along the way.”

17 doesn’t look convinced, but his chin dips in a nod.

_ You’ll see,  _ Fordo promises, wishing he could better articulate some sort of reassurance, if 17 would tolerate it.  _ It’s not always down to you.  _

He’s always pushed himself too hard, 17 - always burdened himself with carrying the weight of Jango’s legacy as though he couldn’t entrust any of the man’s ninety-nine other sons to do the job themselves. Fordo shouldn’t count himself grateful, but he can’t deny that he would be all too happy to pass it up, given the choice.

_ Better you than me,  _ ner vod.

Fordo doesn’t pretend he always understands what goes on his brother’s mind, but if he can share that burden, even temporarily… well, he’ll have upheld his end of the deal. 

**______________**

For all that they’re soldiers, the near-constant disquiet lurking in Vortex’s eyes is a stark reminder that there are some obstacles even Jango Fett couldn’t overcome.

Fordo prefers to have a target in front of him, himself - an enemy that has the decency to identify itself from the start. He’s never grappled with things that can’t be seen when he can avoid it; those are Jedi matters, the likes of which Fordo doesn’t have any problem ignoring so long as it’s not an imminent threat.

He doesn’t bother asking Vortex if he’s okay. In short, he’s not. His brother is fearless and cunning and strong-willed - but he’s vulnerable, too. He’s on guard far too often for one to wonder if there isn’t a reason for it.

_ You don’t have to protect yourself from me,  _ Fordo wants to say. But the invitation to lower those carefully crafted shields will only drive Vortex away. It’s a complexity Fordo doesn’t fancy he’ll ever unravel, so he navigates the situation as best he can.

“I have some stuff to take care of if you want to join me,” he says. “Mission reports and the like. Nothing exciting, but I’d welcome the company.”

The answer in Vortex’s eyes is plain. The hesitation isn’t far behind. It’s almost painful, to see how clearly his brother longs to give in, only to be held back by some inhibition that isn’t entirely of his own making.

“Hey,” Fordo presses gently. This isn’t his territory at all, but if he doesn’t try, who will? “You don’t have to explain anything to me if you’re not ready. But you don’t have to be alone, either.”

Vortex wavers.

“Besides, someone has to keep me on track,” he continues, opting for a route that’s kinder all around. “As Seventeen so kindly reminds me, I’ve been lagging in the paperwork department.”

Vortex’s first instinct will always be to turn to Alpha, but Fordo likes to imagine he’s a suitable alternative. He doesn’t think he’s imagining the gratitude that smooths the creases of his brother’s frown. 

It’s not quite a smile, but it tells Fordo everything Vortex doesn’t yet know how to say.

_____________

Plenty of their brothers dismiss Maze out of hand for being too uptight or too rigid, but there are times when Fordo finds his methodical manner oddly reassuring. It’s almost comical, the contrast between their respective approaches, but Maze is as steady as they come. 

“Sounds messy,” Maze opines when Fordo gives him a rundown of the situation that’s brewing in the Ryloth system.

"Got it in one.” Talking to a grainy holo of his brother isn’t half as satisfying as holding a conversation face-to-face, but Fordo takes what he can get. “Guess who’s on standby.”

“Why not send an infantry battalion?” Maze says critically. “Your squad shouldn’t be used as front-line troops.”

“Tell that to command,” Fordo says, unable to hold back a sigh. “We go where sent.”

“Go careful, though, yeah?”

“With the way things have been going this could blow over in a few days. I’m not too worried.”

“Or it could get out of hand,” Maze cautions. “I wouldn’t assume anything if I were you.”

It’s nothing Fordo hasn’t figured out for himself, but he doesn’t berate his brother for it. Maze doesn’t get too many field missions anymore; Fordo can only imagine how frustrating it must be to watch the rest of the Special Operations Brigade come and go on any number of high-risk assignments. 

“You ought to see if Zey will let you loose for a while,” he suggests. “Field ops take priority over paperwork.” 

Desk duty is a waste of Maze’s skills, too, but even Fordo knows better than to say that.

Maze’s jaw tightens. “I’m sure someone will need a new assignment soon.”

Not that they have the numbers for that; the first year of the war did a number on the commando squads. Even with the combined strength of the cross-trained ARCs and Republic commandos, they’re operating at less than half the original strength of the brigade. Fordo doesn’t see the sense in keeping Maze tied to Coruscant, and he can’t fathom why it’s so difficult for General Zey to puzzle out, either. 

“We’ll watch our backs,” Fordo promises. “You promised me a drink a while ago, remember?” 

Maze cracks a smile. “So I did.”

“I’m holding you to that. Gotta have  _ something  _ to keep me going out here.”

“ _ K’oyacyi, ner vod. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to submit a prompt, my inbox is open over at @cptalpha-17!


	15. Take My Hand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original prompt: "Alpha being a dad. That's it that's the prompt"
> 
> Poor Alpha really needs a break. He has no idea what to do with kids.

“Ouch - quit hanging on like that, you little - ”

Alpha remembers far too late that he is dealing with highly impressionable  _ children  _ who will no doubt soak up every word he says and spew it back at him at an inopportune moment.  _ Osik,  _ if he isn’t about ready to call the whole farce once and for all -

The cadets can’t be much older than eight standard years, smart enough to know exactly where they’re not wanted and cheeky enough to poke their noses in the minute his back is turned. They’re nothing short of utter chaos, Alpha is starting to realize, thoroughly dismayed. 

By now he knows better than to carry any weapons when they’re in range. It’s not that he’s worried they’ll hurt themselves; quite the opposite, in fact. They’re entirely too clever for their own good and could easily hit a target at fifty meters, and with his luck he’ll be down range at the precise moment they discover it isn’t very difficult to turn the safety off. 

Of course 24 is the ringleader, the little brat. He’s the strategist of the lot, and Alpha doesn’t doubt he’s the mastermind behind it all. It would be funny if it weren’t downright alarming how quickly the boys get into trouble - or cause their own, if there’s none to be found.

“Would you let _ go _ ,” Alpha repeats irritably. 36 releases his leg, sullen-faced. 

24 places himself in front of Alpha, hands linked behind his back and a look of harmless innocence pasted on his face. “We’ve finished our lessons, sir.”

Alpha isn’t fooled for an instant. “And I’m sure I won’t find out you bullied one of your  _ vode  _ into doing everything himself. Speaking of, where’s - ”

“He’s fine,” 24 answers before Alpha can finish his sentence. His unconvincing smile grows. “We’re all fine, sir.”

“I don’t suppose I would find Oh-Four in the armory right around now, would I?” Alpha asks with a stab at nonchalance. 

Unfortunately, he’s never quite gotten the hang of it. 24 now appears faintly bored, as if he couldn’t be bothered to remember his brother’s whereabouts. “Oh-Four said he couldn’t be bothered with our pran - practice.”

“Practice.”

“Yessir. You see, we thought we ought to review some of the forms you showed us the other day.” Alpha knows the look on 24’s face all too well. He’s Fordo, some years younger, crafting his most baldfaced lies to Fett himself. Far more disconcerting is Alpha’s desire to laugh. 

He quickly stifles the urge. He’d lose whatever authority he has left if the cadets see him lose his bearing now. Not to mention he’s sure Fordo would manage to be even more insufferable than he already is if he caught wind of it. 

“Odd that only the three of you thought you should practice,” Alpha remarks, pinning 52 with a look. “ _ Ka’ra _ knows you could use it.”

“We’re doing fine,” 36 protests.

As this isn’t part of 24’s script, 24 glares at 36 until he scowls and looks away. Alpha hasn’t the faintest clue where the kid learned to be so obstinate - he’s certainly never taught them as much. 

“It’s not like we can get into the armory anyways,” 52 ventures. “You and Captain Fordo are the only ones who have the access codes.”

“And my brother isn’t above pulling some  _ di’kutla  _ prank.” Alpha folds his arms. “You’re not exactly reassuring me.”

“Fordo told us himself he’s too busy,” 24 rushes to say, agreeable as anything. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, sir.” 

Which just about confirms his suspicions that the other little terrors are up to something. Alpha would rather stay out of it, but no matter how he frames it, he’s pretty sure this one falls to him.  _ And here I thought this might be an easier assignment for a change… _

“They’re in the armory, sir,” 36 announces. 52 and 24’s objections are immediate and loud. 36 looks rather disinterested as he continues, “Fordo let them in. Oh-Four and Two-Six are there now. Fordo said something about testing some of the new ordnance - ”

Ka’ra  _ help us.  _ Alpha doesn’t spend too long wondering what could happen if 04 or 86 got their hands on some of the higher grade explosives. Or Fordo, come to think of it - his brother’s always had a penchant for what he terms  _ the finer things in life.  _

Fordo, predictably, is unrepentant when Alpha storms into the armory. 04 and 86 are curiously absent. He’ll have to check the vents later; the gremlins are still small enough to squeeze their way through. With any luck they’ll hit a growth spurt soon and outgrow their days of running rampant through the network of vents in Tipoca City. 

“They’re going to be the death of me,” Alpha grumbles. He hasn’t decided just what to do with Fordo yet, so he lets his brother think he got off easy. “I turn my back on them for two seconds…”

“It’ll do you good,” Fordo retorts. “Maybe you’ll lighten up.”

Alpha scoffs. “Not a chance. I’m supposed to be training commanders.”

“And there it is,” Fordo mutters with an aggrieved sigh. “You know, you haven’t changed much.”

“I could say the same for you. I seem to remember you trying to sneak around after hours.”

“Difference is I never got caught,” his brother says with a grin. “I don’t think you ever sold me out, either.”

“I considered it, believe me.”

“Yeah, but you like me too much for that.” Fordo tilts his head, considering. “You might want to get eyes on Two-Four’s squad, by the way.”

“Why?” Alpha demands.

“I happened to overhear that they’re planning something.” Fordo holds up a hand to stall any interruption. “I don’t know  _ what  _ exactly, but I’m pretty sure Oh-Four said something about paint. Or maybe it was glue. Your armor? Or - ”

With no shortage of disasters in sight, Alpha is long gone before Fordo can finish. They’ll run him ragged and then some, these cadets. He can only hope he’ll have enough time to catch up on his sleep someday soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still open to prompts over at @cptalpha-17! :D


End file.
